


Echoes

by Markov_Debris



Series: Company Series [17]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Audiobook: In the Shadows, Breathplay, Episode: s02e05 Adam, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 19:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12637803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markov_Debris/pseuds/Markov_Debris
Summary: Jack watches the reactions of team as they try to figure out what they were doing during the two days that they cannot remember.





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> This story can be read as a standalone story or as part of the Company Series/Awaiting Universe

Jack glanced over the members of his team as they worked.  All of them wanted to know that it was they had been doing for the past few days.

The Immortal, while concerned about his own memory loss, was more interested in the team’s reactions.  He had lost two years of memories and that had caused him to leave the Time Agency and begin his journey to Twenty-first Century Cardiff, so far though none of them were having a reaction that extreme.

The bouquet of flowers of Toshiko’s desk sat like an elephant in the room for the Technical Genius and the Medic.  Owen kept glancing from it to Tosh wondering what had possessed him to make such an out of character gesture.

Toshiko on the other had didn’t care what the flower were for.  While part of her was working hard to find out what they had done in their forgotten time, there was an air of confident pleasure about her, Owen had given her flowers.

Gwen on the other hand was pissed off.  She remembered going to Paris with Rhys but her last day there and coming home were as lost to her as they were to the others.

She raced through her work to find out what on earth had robbed them all of the last few days.  It was probably only the fact that he too remembered nothing that saved Jack from being killed when Owen confirmed that they had all been Retconned.

Gwen then spent a good hour trying to break through the amnesia barrier as she had before.  It didn’t matter that the Retcon had been improved but she was determined.

It was only when Ianto reminded her that last time there had been a trigger, the knife, which had helped her break through the barrier and helped her remember, that she stopped.  She began looking around the Hub to see if anything triggered similar feelings but there was nothing.

She decided to return home and see Rhys, it was possible that he knew that they had done over the past few days. 

Gwen, and consequently the team never really found out what Rhys knew.  The Welshwoman was distracted by an overjoyed fiancé who said something about Jack keeping his promises, then insisted that they go out for a romantic dinner and return home for some passionate love making.

Not long after she left Jack insisted that Tosh and Owen go home themselves and the lost CCTV footage was remaining stubbornly absent.  Owen was still eyeing Tosh and her flowers warily but he also behaved like a gentleman as they got on to the lift.

Once they were gone the Immortal went in search of the one person who didn’t seem disturbed by their lack of memory.  If fact, apart from discovering that Jack had read his diary, Ianto had been thoroughly serene about the whole incident.

He found the Welshman in the team showers cleaning the floor.  No other man could look sexy, or immaculate, on all fours wearing Marigolds and wielding a scrubbing brush.

The Welshman looked at him with a smile before turning back to his work.  Jack sat on the bench in the middle of the room and watched his lover work.

“You know you don’t seem particularly bothered that you cannot remember what we’ve done for the last few days.  It seems a bit odd as you like to know everything,” Jack stated curiously.

Ianto finished what he was doing and sat back on his knees.  The Welshman had a faraway look in his eyes and Jack knew he had no prepared answer.

As the silence continued, the Immortal realised that there was more to this than just not having thought about why it didn’t bother him.  There was some deeply personal reasoning behind it that the Welshman was preparing to share.

Ianto put down his brush and rose to his feet taking off the rubber gloves.  He sat beside the Immortal and took a deep breath.

“When I first came to Torchwood I was battle damaged,” Ianto said hesitantly.

An old guilt shot through Jack.  Ianto had had PTSD he was sure of it, but no one had helped, this precious man had been allowed to suffer alone, ignored for too long, until it was almost too late.

A gentle hand rested on his arm.  Jack looked up into the kind blue eyes of an angel, an angel he had seen in a mad man’s hell and, with forgiveness, released him.

“There was eventually a morning when I could see the world as it is.  Oh there were many things still to be resolved in my mind, but the battle itself, it was no longer a weight on me,” Ianto said not really sure if he was saying it right but Jack understood.

Survivor’s guilt was as much a description as a name.  How the few couldn’t understand surviving a disaster when so many others didn’t.

Jack couldn’t tell if this morning was one during their relationship before he left or not.  He was sure that the Welshman’s other issues were resolved in his absence, he had given his young lover what he needed before, but still stifled him.

Ianto stood and stretched, his eyes closed, enjoying a moment of physical freedom as though it was emotional freedom.  In that moment Jack loved and envied the Welshman’s ability to know inner peace.

The Archivist then turned to him and shrugged offhanded in a way that was adorably un-tranquil.

“When I woke up today I felt like I did that morning, like a weight had been lifted from me, a burden that wasn’t really mine.  We did this to ourselves for a reason, I think it was a good one,” Ianto said quietly, as if he could sense darkness in what they had lost.

“Whatever it was we were doing we weren’t having sex,” Jack said trying to lighten the mood.

Ianto immediately laughed then picked up his cleaning box and headed for one of the showers.  Jack got up instinctively as he felt a strange pang of loss.

“I’m serious, I can tell when I haven’t had sex for a few days, my body doesn’t quite feel right,” Jack protested with the truth.

“If it’s any consolation I think we were working.  I don’t feel like I’ve changed for days,” Ianto complained and it was Jack’s turn to chuckle.

“What?  I can always tell how un-freshly laundered I am, that’s why I’ve been doing all the sweaty jobs,” he replied turning on the shower to give the cubical an initial rinse.

Jack crossed the space between them in an instant.  He was feeling incredibly horny and, together with the sensation of having let something important slip away, the thought of a sweat covered Ianto suddenly was too much.

Yet the instant he pounced Ianto turned the tables on him.  Jack’s back was slammed against the shower wall as water fell on him.

Ianto’s hand was at his throat.  The Welshman looked him in the eye and suddenly began to squeeze.

Then Ianto’s lips were on his, kissing and letting air into his lungs as he softened his hold.  Jack let his body go limp, let the Welshman take control because he felt the sudden need to be dominated, to be punished, forgiven and loved.

Ianto opened his shirt with one hand while the other squeezed and released his throat.  The Welshman’s lips were on Jack’s body, touching him, turning him on as he controlled his life.

Jack heard two zips being unfastened.  Felt water splashing on his hard cock before feeling another warm harness beside it.

One hand controlled his air and the other now controlled his cock.  He felt a high buzzing over him as lack of oxygen heightened each sensation.

He came, airless, and his aftershocks were heightened by the flood of oxygen rushing into his lungs.  Ianto held him as he got his breath back and then moved back.

“I’m sorry, I don’t...” the Welshman began shaken.

“I don’t care, that was wonderful,” Jack gasped.

He dived forward so that he could capture his lover’s lips, reassure him that everything was alright.  The urge to cling to the Welshman, to not ever let go, was overwhelming.

Jack stripped Ianto and himself of their sodden clothes.  They took a proper shower, towelled themselves off and the Immortal carried the naked Welshman back to his quarters to make love.

Ianto never initiated that kind of play again.  As the Welshman kissed his throat chastely that night Jack knew that whatever desire or need his lover had felt in the shower was gone now, either satisfied or frightened away.

 

Many months later Jack took Ianto to a secluded cottage.  He manipulated the Welshman into making love to him in the garden with soil for a bed.

As Ianto finished opening him and was lining up to enter Jack guided his lover’s hand to grip his throat.  The Welshman asked no questions he merely slammed in and began to squeeze.

Jack had no fear of being buried, his occasional feelings of claustrophobia were instantly tempered by the presence of Ianto or Gwen.  It was his penance and he accepted it for what it was.

What Jack didn’t want was the feeling of failure every time he entered the Hothouse.  To be swamped by memories of his insane brother and the rips he had left in the Immortal’s soul.

Ianto took his air but gave Jack everything else, love, forgiveness and his life under his control once more.  As he climaxed he got his oxygen back and his neck was kissed tenderly to draw the matter to a close.

Ever after, on those occasional, horrific, times when he was buried alive, just before death overcame him, he would feel a hand at his throat, smell something other than soil and hear the whispered words, “I love you, I forgive you, the universe awaits.”

When Jack was brought back into the fresh air, the scent lingered, he felt phantom kisses on this throat and he always felt hope.

 

Fin.


End file.
